


kisses for cake

by gabstar



Series: BokuAka Week [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BokuAka Week, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn in the second chapter, Prompt Fill, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, birthday fic, in which kuroo is the best asshole friend you can ask for, lots and lots of kissing honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5362796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabstar/pseuds/gabstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Akaashi's birthday and Bokuto wants to make sure that everything is perfect.</p><p> Kuroo thinks he should be considered a saint for having to put up with this.</p><p>((smut in the second chapter, first chapter can be read without it!!))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday akaashi keiji!!

After the longest three minutes and forty-five seconds of Bokuto’s life, Kuroo finally crashes through his front door, with Kenma and a shovel in tow.

“I’m here!” he shouts. “What’s the emergency?”

Bokuto appears in the kitchen doorway, looking as if a kitchen cupboard has thrown up on him. He has flour on his cheeks, egg yoke in his hair, and a panicked expression on his face.

“Kuroo!” Bokuto cries, grasping his shoulders and shaking him. “You’re here! What took you so long? This is a disaster.”

“Kenma couldn’t find his DS,” Kuroo says. Kenma slumps against the wall and continues to click away at his game. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“The birthday cake!” Bokuto cries. “I ruined the birthday cake, Kuroo. Akaashi’s surprise party is tomorrow and I was supposed to bake the cake but I ruined it.”

“Birthday cake?” Kuroo repeats, mind racing trying to piece it together. “Wait.  _That’s_  the emergency?”

Bokuto nods. “I’ve been planning his surprise party for weeks! What is he going to say when he shows up and there’s no cake? What’s a birthday party without birthday cake?”

Kuroo sighs, leaning the shovel against the wall. “We really need to reevaluate what the word ‘emergency’ means, bro.”

“You know how to bake, right? Kuroo? Kenma?” Bokuto asks both of them somewhat desperately. “One of you has to know.”

“Not really,” Kenma says dully, now crouched on the ground.

Kuroo runs a hand through his hair. “I mean. We can try.”

Kenma sighs but shrugs his agreement. Bokuto smashes Kuroo in a bone-shattering hug. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, I'll pay you back for this somehow, I promise!" Bokuto shouts. 

"Yeah, no problem, bro." Kuroo flinches as Bokuto's eggy hair drips on his shoulder. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

 

* * *

 

Kuroo throws the baking pan against the wall. The fifth failed cake clatters on the floor, hard as a rock.

“What are we doing wrong?” he yells. Bokuto looks up from his fetal position on the floor long enough to chastise him, it’s well past midnight now. “Sorry, sorry…”

They had burned the first cake. No one had remembered to set the timer as they went to play volleyball in the front lawn. The second Bokuto ruined by opening and closing the the oven about seventeen times, leaving the bottom crispy and the middle raw. Kenma had a sneezing fit in the third's batter and they'd all had to clear out of the kitchen until the flour settled out of the air. And y the fourth cake, Kuroo had been so exhausted he mistook salt for sugar and Kenma looked like he was on the verge of tears during the taste test.

“He’s going to dump me,” Bokuto moans. “I’m the worst boyfriend in the world.”

Kuroo closes his eyes, trying to will himself not to scream. He's so tired his eyes feel raw and dry like sandpaper. He takes a deep breath and summons his nerve.

“Get off the floor, Bokuto. We're not losing to a goddamn cake,” Kuroo hisses, pointing at him. “Kenma wake up, we’re trying again.”

Kenma’s resting his head on his laptop keyboard and whimpers. “ _Tetsu_ , I want to go home.”

Kuroo almost falters at the sound of his first name. 

“Last one, I promise,” he says evenly. “Kenma read off the recipe. Bokuto clean off that pan. This one’s all me.”

He makes sure Kenma rereads each line of the recipe twice. He triple checks his measurements. He sits cross-legged in front of the stove, watching the cake rise with wild eyes.

Kuroo pulls it from the oven carefully. Kenma and Bokuto hover over him.

“Did it work?” Bokuto asks, eyes wide.

It doesn’t look burned. Kuroo touches the cake briefly and the cake springs back, firm and warm. Kuroo’s heart races.

“I think we did it,” Kuroo says.

“Put it down gently,” Bokuto says. “ _Gently!_ ”

Kuroo sets it on the counter.

“Do you think it tastes alright?” Kenma asks, voice hushed.

Kuroo frowns. “Only one way to find out.”

Kuroo pulls out a fork from the kitchen drawer and Bokuto hisses, “You’re going to ruin it!”

“You do it then,” Kuroo snaps, shoving the fork at him.

Bokuto’s hand trembles as he chips off the smallest, tiniest piece off the corner. He jumps up and down in excitement, fork still hanging out of his mouth.

“It tastes like cake, it tastes like cake!” he yells.

“Oh thank god.” Kuroo buries his face in his hands. Kenma slumps and lays belly-flat on the floor. “It’s over. It’s finally over.”

He checks the clock. It’s half past three in the morning. They’re going to have to be awake in two hours for volleyball practice. Kuroo’s head is buzzing with mental and emotional fatigue.

“Now we just have to frost it,” Bokuto whispers.

“No.” Kenma hooks onto Kuroo’s ankle. “We’re leaving. You can frost it yourself in the morning.”

Bokuto gives Kuroo a distressed look and Kuroo shakes his head.

“Either way, we’d have to wait for it to cool off,” Kuroo says. “We’ll frost it in the morning.”

“Will you say over?” Bokuto says, voice tiny as he hides behind his hands. “I don’t want to be left alone with it.”

Kuroo's too tired to argue with his logic. "Let me take Kenma home first. Kenma? _Kenma?_ "

Kenma’s already asleep, using Kuroo’s foot as a pillow.

 

 

* * *

 

  
  


Kuroo yawns as Bokuto hushes everyone. Akaashi’s surprise party is held in the Fukurodani gym, currently filled with murmuring people and party decorations. Fukurodani’s decorated the place with owls and streamers and gold and white confetti. The managers have filled a whole table with treats, snacks, and punch. That impossible birthday cake sits in the middle, messily frosted and seventeen candles in place. There’s even a pinata in one corner of the gym.

Kuroo’s surprised at how many people have been invited; all of Fukurodani and Nekoma, the captains from training camp and even Hinata and Tsukishima have shown up. Hinata's bouncing around Bokuto, asking if there’s anything he can do to help while Tsukishima sulks in the corner, pretending to be disinterested.

Kuroo’s too sleepy to appreciate any of it. Kenma’s curled around his arm and dozing on his shoulder. Bokuto looks like he’s going to crash and pass out any minute, all jittery with tired bags under his eyes.

There’s a knock on the gym door. “Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto makes a strangled sound before, “I’m here!”

Akaashi opens the door and his remark is cut short by the sudden screaming filling the room. All of Fukurodani rushes Akaashi, Konoha and Sarukui lifting him on their shoulders. Komi tries to help, but he’s too short and ends up just reaching and cheering with Onaga and Washio. The managers hang back, clapping cheerily.

“What?” Akaashi gasps. “Bokuto-san? What is--”

Bokuto’s in the middle of a yawn as he cheers along with them. “Happy Birthday, babe!”

Konoha and Sarukui are singing horribly off-key, jostling Akaashi as they do. Komi bellows along loudest of all them, and pinches Onaga when he doesn’t join in.

“Do we have to sing too?” Kenma whispers.

“I don’t think so,” Kuroo says, watching as Akaashi turns beet-red under all the attention. “I think it’s just a dumb-owl thing.”

Konoha and Sarukui deposit Akaashi in front of the managers, who peck him once on each cheek, before he turns to everyone else in the room looking dazed. There’s a trembling look on Akaashi’s face, like he’s holding something back. He looks at Bokuto wonderingly.

“Is this what you were doing all week?” Akaashi asks, gripping the corner of Bokuto’s jacket.

Bokuto rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well--”

“Come here,” Akaashi says, tugging him down for a kiss.

Kuroo cheers along with everyone else, and for that moment alone, the bone-quaking exhaustion is worth it. Konoha’s wolf-whistle eventually breaks them apart, both blushed and looking pleased.

"Hey, hey we _all_ helped," Komi whines. "Bokuto shouldn't get all of the credit." 

"I'm not kissing you, Komi-san," Akaashi says flatly and Bokuto roars with laughter.

If Akaashi looks teary no one mentions it. He keeps himself tucked under Bokuto’s arm through most of the party, occasionally cooing over the bags under Bokuto’s eyes and showering him with small kisses. Everyone else crowds Akaashi, giving him hugs and good wishes. 

Akaashi looks a little overwhelmed when Kuroo and Kenma walk up. Kuroo throws an arm around his shoulders. 

"I heard you're giving out free kisses to anyone who helped," he teases.  "I made the cake so--" 

Akaashi shoves him off. "Nice try." 

Bokuto's laugh is a little too nervous as he pulls Akaashi just a touch closer to him. "It's true though, Kuroo did bake the cake." 

Akaashi looks at him appreciatively. "Thank you, Kuroo-san." 

Kuroo bows dramatically and Kenma tuts in disapproval. 

"It wasn't just him," Kenma says, voice a little sour. "We all helped." 

"Yeah, but I made it edible," Kuroo says, smug. "I think that merits a kiss." 

Akaashi rolls his eyes. "Fine." 

He tipt-toes and kisses Kuroo's cheek briefly. He then turns to Kenma and does the same. 

"Kisses for cake," Akaashi says, though his cheeks are a little flushed. "Happy?" 

"And me, and me!" Bokuto whines.

Akaashi kisses him longest and sweetest at the corner of his mouth. "And you." 

This seems to satisfy Bokuto, who nuzzles into Akaashi's hair. Kuroo feels embarrassed just looking at them, his cheek tingling. 

"Alright, alright," Kuroo says. "Happy Birthday, Akaashi. Can we eat my amazing cake now?" 

Amazing was probably an exaggeration. But it must be pretty good because even after Komi and Sarukui team up and smash Bokuto's face into it, people still want a piece. Lev sneaks back for seconds and gets publicly chewed out by Yaku while Inuoka fails to suppress his giggles. Akaashi kisses the cake off Bokuto’s cheeks, nose and lips while everyone politely pretends not to notice.

Lev and Hinata make a disaster over Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Owl, somehow managing to pluck Tsukishima and earning themselves well-deserved kicks in the spines. Akaashi’s happy just to watch as everyone takes a shot at the pinata. Kuroo makes a spectacular show of himself as Bokuto bobs and weaves the pinata out of his reach and it isn’t until Kenma rips the bat out of Kuroo’s hands that anyone gets any candy. Sarukui and Konoha keep fighting over who’s supposed to be the DJ and songs keep flashing between Kpop and some American band Kuroo’s never heard of, while Yaku starts up a small game of volleyball in one corner.

It’s late before Kuroo and Kenma start heading home. Hinata gives Kenma three hugs before he head's back to Lev's for for a sleepover and Yaku leaves them with a lecture about getting enough sleep before Monday’s morning practice. Kuroo’s too weary to process most of it, and it’s just happy to be heading home. Kenma’s still clinging to his arm.

“Was it worth staying up all night?” Kenma asks as they walk home. Kenma's still clinging to Kuroo’s arm.

“I think so,” Kuroo says, even though his eyes are watery with exhaustion. “Don’t you?”

Kenma nods slowly. “Yes, I think it was." 

Kuroo grins.

“You’re just happy Chibi-chan showed up," he accuses. 

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Tetsu,” Kenma says, leaving a kiss on Kuroo’s shoulder. “Lets go home and rest.”

Kuroo warms at the small affection and agrees.

 

 

* * *

  
  


Bokuto and Akaashi struggle to make it home. Bokuto finds it’s hard to kiss and laugh and walk all the same time and they keep having to stop and make out properly. Bokuto’s mouth already feels red and swollen as he’s pressed against a lamp-post and kissed thoroughly.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto mumbles under Akaashi’s insistent mouth. “We’re almost home, just a little further.”

Akaashi hums in acknowledgment, but doesn’t stop. He leaves sloppy kisses along Bokuto’s cheeks and jaw and chin. Akaashi's breath hitches in surprise.

“I missed some frosting,” he explains, sucking at the patch of skin. Heat curls low in Bokuto’s belly.

“ _Akaashi_ ,” he whines, and Akaashi lets himself be tugged along. He’s still aiming kisses along Bokuto’s arms and chest as they clamor through the door.

“Finally,” Akaashi says, tugging off Bokuto’s coat for him. Bokuto takes Akaashi’s face in his hands and kisses him, deep and desperate. Akaashi fumbles with his own jacket. 

Akaashi tenses, then breaks away, his nose wrinkled. “Is something burned?”

“Huh?” Bokuto pauses. “Oh, dammit." 

Bokuto had forgotten to clean up, and since his parents were out of town for the weekend, the dishes are still undone in the sink and the five ruined cakes are still sitting in the garbage. Bokuto smacks his palm to his forehead.  

“Sorry, Akaashi! Just give me a minute, I’ll take out the trash and clean up,” Bokuto says, embarrassed.

But Akaashi’s not listening. He walks into the kitchen, seeing egg on the ceiling from Bokuto’s disastrous solo attempt and dried cake batter splattered on the stove. There’s piles of flour on the floor from when Kenma slipped and dumped half of the canister on the ground and Akaashi looks at the mass of ruined cakes in the trashcan.

“Let me get that,” Bokuto says hastily, stepping in between him and the trashcan. “So not romantic, I know. But there’s chocolates upstairs and I bought roses so my room should smell okay, but I totally forgot to clean up this morning. Kuroo and Kenma were here and I was up late and I had like six missed calls from Komi and--”

Akaashi’s staring at him, an unfamiliar misty expression in his eyes. Bokuto stutters to a halt.

“--and I-- Akaashi, is-- is everything okay?”

Akaashi’s blinking rapidly, he looks away and he sniffs. Bokuto jolts in horror.

“Akaashi don’t cry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Bokuto reaches for him. He wipes at the dampening corners of Akaashi’s eyes. “Don't cry on your birthday! Tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it.”

Akaashi’s laugh is nasally and wet. He shakes his head, cupping Bokuto’s face in turn.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Akaashi says. “Everything's perfect." 

Bokuto watches Akaashi, lips parted. Akaashi’s soft from crying and his smile sends goosebumps along Bokuto’s skin. 

"Everything's perfect," Akaashi repeats, running his thumb across Bokuto's cheekbone. "Thank you, Koutarou." 

Bokuto can feel his fingers tingling, a prickling in his nose and throat. He tries to swallow the welling feeling in his chest. He kisses Akaashi's forehead.

"Happy Birthday, Keiji," Bokuto says. 

And right there, with five ruined birthday cakes in the trashcan, the kitchen reeking of burned batter, and his whole body heavy with exhaustion, Bokuto agrees that everything's perfect.


	2. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW follow up to "kisses for cake." basically just the shenanigans Bokuto and Akaashi get up to after the party. Can be read alone.

 

Akaashi Keiji’s tucked between the bedroom wall and Bokuto’s warm, broad chest. Bokuto’s arms are wrapped around him, Akaashi’s hands riding up Bokuto’s shirt and trailing the ripples of muscle along his back.

Akaashi’s whole body is warm and buzzing with wine, the bottle standing half-emptied on his nightstand. His room is littered with cupcake wrappers and tissue paper from Bokuto’s presents. Including an owl plushie, two novels, and a framed selfie of them, currently propped up next to the wine bottle. It’d been a long, long birthday and Akaashi feels a little guilty for being relieved that it’s almost over, but he’s happiest here. Quiet and curled up next to his boyfriend.

“Did you have a happy birthday, Keiji?” Bokuto asks, voice soft in Akaashi’s ear.

Akaashi hums. “Yes.”

“What was your favorite part?” Bokuto asks, pressing kisses to the side of his face. His mouth is sticky and ticklish and Akaashi squirms.  

“Mmm.” Akaashi’s memories are fuzzy. “I liked when Kuroo couldn’t hit the pinata.”

Bokuto shakes with laughter. “Me too! He looked so dumb.”

“You had trouble too,” Akaashi reminds, the image of blindfolded Bokuto with a bat horrifically vivid in his mind. “If Kenma hadn’t stepped in, no one would have gotten any candy..”

“Hm. True. Who knew Kenma knew how to hit?” Bokuto says. “Maybe baseball is his true calling.”

“Maybe,” Akaashi says. He tries to picture Kenma in a baseball cap and a mit. “That would be weird.”

“Really weird,” Bokuto muses. “Plus if Kenma wanted to play baseball, Kuroo would probably want to start playing too.”

Akaashi wrinkles his nose. “Not good.”

“Not good at all.”

Akaashi sighs a little through his nose, burying himself further into Bokuto’s embrace. Bokuto kisses the top of his forehead.

“Thanks for the birthday party, Koutarou,” Akaashi murmurs. .

“Were you surprised?” Bokuto asks again. He keeps going back to that, like it was the most important part. Akaashi hadn’t been, of course. Bokuto holds secrets just about as well as he holds his wine.

“Very surprised,” Akaashi lies anyway. “You did amazing.”

Bokuto makes a pleased sound and hiccups. It jolts Akaashi off Bokuto’s chest and he scowls.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bokuto says, drawing him back. He runs a hand through Akaashi’s hair. “I think we might have overdone it on the wine.”

“We drank half the bottle,” Akaashi says. “That’s… half the bottle.”

Bokuto snorts. “Probably wasn’t a good idea.”

Akaashi’s smiling into Bokuto’s chest. “Probably not.”

Akaashi can’t find it in himself to care though. Not when he feels so comfortable and dozy.

“I thought it would be romantic,” Bokuto says lowly. “Like what good boyfriends do. Chocolates, wine, roses.”

Akaashi frowns in confusion. “You didn’t get me any roses.”

“What? I-- I didn’t?” Bokuto asks blearily. “Dammit.”

Akaashi’s giggling before he can stop himself. Bokuto kisses his cheeks sloppily.

“So cute,” Bokuto murmurs. “You should giggle all the time.”

Bokuto keeps layering him with kisses. His mouth tastes like birthday cake and sugar and wine as Akaashi meets his lips. Akaashi hums happily.

“Koutarou,” Akaashi breathes, loving the way it sounds.

“Mm?” Bokuto hums as he mouths down Akaashi’s jaw, down his neck.

“Thank you,” Akaashi says. “For everything. The owls, the books, the wine, the almost-roses--”

Bokuto giggles. “Almost-roses.”

Akaashi keeps going as Bokuto sucks on an old bruise, renewing a hickey. “And the chocolates and the picture and the kisses and the birthday cake--”

“Kuroo made it,” Bokuto confesses again. “He’s super great.”

“And--” Bokuto bites and Akaashi’s whole skin rises, desperate to get closer, to be touched. “And--- and everything.”

Bokuto shifts to properly kiss him but their slick lips slide off center. Bokuto’s mouth lands on Akaashi’s chin and Akaashi snickers. He plants a hand on either side of Bokuto’s face to better aim and Bokuto hums against his mouth.

“I’m so dizzy,” Bokuto says, hushed.

“It’s because you’re tipsy,” Akaashi says between kissing and sucking on Bokuto’s bottom lip. “You got us drunk.”

“Hey, hey, Keiji, you’re the one who kept drinking it,” Bokuto scolds. “I was just trying to keep up.”

Akaashi doesn’t have a response to that, so he pulls Bokuto closer. He drags his knee between Bokuto’s legs and Bokuto’s hips grind against him on impulse. Akaashi smirks.

“Not _that_ dizzy apparently,” Akaashi says, hoping he sounds sexy and not desperate like he feels.

Bokuto’s eyes are dark when he meets Akaashi’s gaze. “Did you want to--”

Akaashi nods, kissing him full and raw and certain. Bokuto responds with shining enthusiasm. He slides his hands into Akaashi’s jeans, dragging them down and cupping Akaashi’s pale thighs. Bokuto lifts him so they’re flush together and Akaashi’s washed in a wave of warmth at the new contact. Akaashi fumbles with Bokuto’s buttoned shirt. He yanks off Bokuto’s tie

“I like it when you dress up for me,” Akaashi says, words slurred.

“I know,” Bokuto says, sucking Akaashi’s jaw red. “‘S why I did it.”

Akaashi tosses the tie aside, going back to kissing all the skin he can find. Bokuto’s cheeks and jaw and the long column of his throat.  Akaashi tastes salt and sweat and something a little sweet too. Something that’s as distinct to Bokuto as his wild hair, golden eyes, and rumbling _hey hey heys_ in the middle of practice.

Bokuto’s wide, hardened palms have ridden up Akaashi’s shirt and are flat against his ribs and Akaashi’s suddenly aware about how heavy his breathing has become. Bokuto’s thumb scrapes against Akaashi’s nipple and Akaashi shivers.

“Makes you hard to undress though,” Akaashi says, one hand struggling with Bokuto’s belt. All the fuzzy-warmth from the wine has gone now, replaced with a tense, desperate heat.

“Here.” Bokuto says. He sits up, getting on his knees and taking his pants off for him. Akaashi’s squirms, missing Bokuto’s body heat. It’s like his skin is empty and needs to be filled with Bokuto’s warm, affectionate mouth.

Akaashi trembles as Bokuto delves down back on him. He wraps his arms around those broad shoulders, letting Bokuto palm him through his boxers, still kissing. Akaashi’s nails dig in as Bokuto’s hand ruts against him.

“You’re so beautiful, Keiji,” Bokuto says. “How are you so, so beautiful?”

Akaashi’s stinging with embarrassment but Bokuto’s words go straight to his cock and Akaashi’s suddenly uncomfortably tight in his boxers. He takes Bokuto’s face and kisses him with teeth and tongue, insistent.

“Needy,” Bokuto says, though he’s giving Akaashi a smug grin. “Impatient.”

Bokuto frees Akaashi from his boxers at last and drags his hot tongue down the line of his hips. Akaashi’s toes curl.

“You’re the one who dresses up for me,” Akaashi jabs and Bokuto giggles.

“Right, right,” Bokuto says, though Akaashi doesn’t miss his tone.

Bokuto explores the terrain of Akaashi’s skin, sucking bruises into Akaashi’s thighs, tonguing the soft curve of his belly. Akaashi feels the prickle of Bokuto’s facial hair, hears the wet lap of his tongue and feels thrillingly vulnerable. Bare and happily exposed to Bokuto in full.

He lets Akaashi get harder and harder. There’s pre-cum leaking swiped across Bokuto’s cheek as Bokuto’s chin brushes by it in favor of kissing the skin along Akaashi’s torso.

The small contact makes Akaashi shiver.

“Koutarou,” Akaashi complains. He feels his entire body like a pulse, narrowed-in on his throbbing cock. “Koutarou _please_.”

Bokuto looks up at him with wide, innocent looking eyes. “Yes?”

Akaashi gives a breathy whine. “ _Please_.”

“See I told you,” Bokuto says “ _Needy_.”

Akaashi moans. “ _Koutarou_.”

Bokuto’s never able to resist him long. He kisses the base of Akaashi’s dick, sliding his tongue up the shaft before mouthing the head. Akaashi hisses.

“ _Kou_ ,” Akaashi gasps. “Ah, Kou, Koutarou--”

Bokuto’s mouth is wet and warm and _soft_ as Akaashi sinks into him. Akaashi’s hands tangle in Bokuto’s hair, pulling him closer, wanting to be fully enveloped.

“Kou,” Akaashi says it just to busy his mouth. “Koutarou, Kou oh--”

Bokuto fastens his mouth around him and sucks hard. His cheeks hollow and eyes flutter shut. The suction makes Akaashi see stars, feel them prickling in his limbs, shaking his nerves. Akaashi’s nails scrape against Bokuto’s scalp and Bokuto gives a throaty groan.

Bokuto’s mouth is unyielding, sucking and kissing and fast. He hums and murmurs things Akaashi that sound like _beautiful_ and _I love you_ and _Keiji_. Akaashi shakes, pulses, shudders. He’s wet and open, helpless to every flick of Bokuto’s tongue, slide of his lip. Bokuto’s mouth unravels him, sending curling spirals of heat and pulsing pleasure.

Bokuto breathes in deep, then exhales, and floods Akaashi with heady warmth.

“Koutarou I’m--” Akaashi whimpers. “I’m--”

Bokuto nods. Akaashi’s hips jerk and he spills into Bokuto’s greedy mouth. Bokuto swallows almost all of him, kissing away what he missed and peppering his stomach and thighs with needy kisses.

Akaashi’s lost in the shaking waves of his own orgasm still rocking through his body. He’s shivering as he pulls Bokuto to lie on top of him, struggling to kiss him properly.

“I love you, I love you,” Akaashi says thickly. “Let me--”

Akaashi reaches to feel Bokuto. His boxers are soaked under Akaashi’s touch and Akaashi yanks them off.

“Move,” Akaashi says, nudging him.

Bokuto rolls over, sprawling out on stained sheets. He looks so good like this, Akaashi thinks. Hair-mussed, lips red, thoroughly ruined. Akaashi kneels over him, nibble fingers working over his length, stroking and tender. He thumbs Bokuto’s slit and lets his hand get slick with pre-cum.

Bokuto moans, a strained, throaty sound. He grips the sheets until his fingers are white.

“Keiji--” he starts, already close.

But Akaashi’s already pumping. Bokuto’s rocking into his palm, needing friction. Akaashi fondles Bokuto’s heavy sack with his other hand, stroking the underside of his cock with careful fingers.

Bokuto’s breathing is ragged and uneven. “Keiji I’m--”

Akaashi knows. He kisses Bokuto hastily, pumping him through climax. He’s splattered with sticky come and Bokuto shivers beneath him. His whole body is flushed with sex and Akaashi kisses all over it. His belly-button, his ribs, his jutting collarbones. Bokuto’s head rolls back and Akaashi kisses his exposed neck, running a hand through Bokuto’s hair.

“That was nice,” Akaashi says softly, kissing the shell of Bokuto’s ear. “Thank you.”

Bokuto covers his eyes. “Don’t say thank you, that-- that makes it sound like I was just giving you a really weird birthday present or-- or--”

Akaashi laughs. “But it _was_ a birthday present, wasn’t it?”

“No! Well, kind of,” Bokuto says, sheepish. “But it’s more than that.”

“I know.” Akaashi gives him a long, soft kiss. “It’s always more than that.”

His eyes are warm and tender. “I love you.”

Akaashi feels like his heart has grown to fill his whole chest, swollen and aching with adoration. He kisses Bokuto again.

“I love you too,” Akaashi murmurs.

They clean up lazily then curl up together. Bokuto pulls Akaashi to his chest, kissing his cheeks and fluttering his eyelashes against him until he giggles.

“Happy, happy birthday,” Bokuto singsongs in whisper. “To my Keiji.”

He pecks Akaashi’s nose for emphasis and Akaashi can’t think of a better gift to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been sitting in my drAFTS FOR MONTHS 
> 
> happy late birthday akaashi ahhhhh

**Author's Note:**

> bokuaka week has just started and i already feel like i'm dying wish me luck
> 
> ((hmu at cutiekeiji on tumblr so we can cry about dumb volleybabes!!))


End file.
